Chemistry in 221B
by Neverforgetus123
Summary: John Watson is new to St. Bart's High school and meets an arrogant man that goes by the name Sherlock Holmes that seems to know a lot about John by a first glance. Sherlock is indeed a mystery, And John is absolutely intrigued. Teenlock au! Rated M for safety. (BAMF! John to come)


_Authors note: Hi! Johnlock is one of my OTP's so I've decided to write a teen au of them because why not? Teenlock sounds perf to be honest. Told in John's point of view for the most part may change. I'm American so my knowledge of slang is very limited. First chapter is long. Also a ***trigger warning! For self-harm, almost suicide, and drug-use in later chapters.*** Please stay safe!_

* * *

I stood at the front of the classroom with eyes all on me as I tried to remember my own name. Under pressure from piercing eyes staring at me made it difficult to think. I stood awkwardly, finding some kind of weird comfort in the intensely blue eyes of the fellow in the front row. He looked up from his phone, watching me as I made a complete fool of myself. The teacher waited patiently for my introduction.

"Uh hi." I waved awkwardly. I heard stifled laughter coming from the back of the class and let out an internal scream. I hate introductions.

God, I probably looked like a bloody wanker.

"I'm John. John Watson. Hmm… I'm new here… well new to this school, but I guess you all new that." My voice lowered but I refused to look down. I wanted to look confident or at least stop shaking. For some reason the bloke up front kept staring at me like he was analyzing my every move.

"Uhm…yeah. That's about it." The teacher looked at me, smiling with sympathy. "Thank you John, you can take your seat now." She was kind, but her eyes that were bright when I first walked in turned shadowy and hostile the moment she took a look at the lean boy in front. She sighed heavily.

"Mr. Holmes, would you kindly give John that seat next to you? It's the only seat left." I could tell her patience was growing thin as she tried to stay unfazed by the way this Holmes guy ignored her and scrolled through his phone. "Sherlock, move your things off that chair."

His ocean eyes looked up slowly from the gaze he had locked onto his phone and moved his book bag reluctantly. After rolling his eyes I might add.

"Thanks." I tried my best to be friendly but this guy, Sherlock, is an absolute dick. I could basically smell the arrogance on him along with the potent scent of cigarette smoke and what is that? Coffee too. For some reason those two scents mixed well. We went about 10 minutes into the lesson on various chemicals and lab safety when Sherlock decided to speak.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"What?" I was honestly confused and annoyed by such a simple question.

"Your father. Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Wha… How did yo...?" He interrupted me with an overconfident scoff.

"Simple deductions."

Simple? Something tells me nothing about this man was simple in any way shape or form. I sat thinking for a moment. How could he possibly know something about my father like that? I hadn't said but one word to the bloke. I made a simple deduction of my own. Sherlock Holmes is quite strange.

"Well then care to explain?"

We tried to keep our voices down as not to disturb the class discussion.

"Very well. Your stance gave it away. When you first came in you kept direct, stern. As if you were waiting for an attack any second. Your stance was very unswerving and strong, though you wavered a few times finding comfort in looking at the floor. You realized immediately and looked up within the same second. Typical behavior of a military raised child."

Amazing. He didn't know but, well, he saw it. That's actually impressive.

"But there is more. There's always more. You Watson have an interesting story amongst any others in this dreaded high school. Correct?"

He knows more? Just how much does this sketchy guy know about me just by a glance.

"Your mother must not be in the picture. Deceased? Or separated… No definitely passed on. It was an accident, you must have been there."

It stung a bit to hear him speak of my mum. It didn't however surprise me that his tone was dull and he had an utter disregard for how I felt on the subject. He didn't seem to be the compassionate type or even slightly sympathetic.

"So car wreck then. My condolences by the way. It explains your brother's alcohol abuse. He must have been driving, feels responsible for the crash.

I found relief in his mistake. Even this, Sherlock Holmes, can be wrong.

He looked at me expecting to react but I felt drained.

"You some kind of medium?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Consulting detective."

"Never heard of such a thing."

He swept a hand through his black curls and smirked. "No you wouldn't have, it's not real. Not yet."

"Well you got most of it right."

"What could I have missed? Your clothes smell of liquor obvious hand me downs, older alcoholic brother. Father, military service, retired early. Deceased mother. I don't think I'm missing anything at all. What is it?"

He talked fast and almost seemed to be talking to himself.

"Sister. Alcoholic sister."

"There's always something dammit. What about the hand me downs?"

"Oh right they aren't hand me downs. My sister spilled this morning. Do they look like hand me downs? It's a new uniform…"

"No, it's uniform policy so everyone looks the same. Though you can usually tell who's more privileged. Don't take offence to that. Your clothes look exceptional."

We didn't talk the rest of class but I knew that wasn't the last I would hear of Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

I didn't expect anyone to want to become best friends on my first day here. It's the first day of a new school for me. I'm the new kid.

So I spent my lunch outside in a shaded spot near a tree. It felt so lonely and made me miss my friends that I had left. The only other class I shared with Sherlock Holmes was gym. He didn't show up though a girl, Molly I think it was, said he had the same period. She also said he rarely shows up to any classes. What a pity, he seemed very smart.

When I was about to take a bite out of my peanut butter and honey sandwich I spotted a tall dark figure leaning against the school near the parking lot.

I never did like being alone…

I approached him with caution, he was unpredictable and seemed to be hate by everyone he comes in contact with. So why would I want to spend lunch with him? He's a prick that much I could tell by sitting in one class period with him, he's cocky, rude, possibly psycho and so intriguing. Dammit I had to learn more.

"Hey. This seat taken?" I pointed at the graveled ground hoping to gain at least a ghost of a laugh, but he only took a drag of his cigarette and observed my every move as he did in chemistry. I coughed as he blew the smoke out. I hated the smell of it but I basically volunteered to be subject to it the moment I sat down.

"You were right."

"I tend to be accurate."

I let out a small chuckle. "Except for when you're wrong."

He sort of just sighed, like a low growl of annoyance.

"A sister! How did I not think of a sister?"

He was distraught and I couldn't help but laugh. Then I grew quite serious.

"You were right though. I don't know how you did it but you did. Car wreck, my mum died, my sister was driving." I emphasized slightly on the word sister.

For a second I swear I saw some sympathy in his light eyes, but it was gone in an instant. He took another puff of his cigarette and stomped it out on the ground near where I sat. I wasn't hungry anymore.

Sherlock looked so skinny that it made me wonder if he was going to eat. His lunch sack sat next to a violin case at his feet. Untouched.

"Well aren't you gonna eat?"

"What day is it?"

I shrugged, "Tuesday I think."

He gazed down at me with those damn blue eyes.

"Oh then I'm good for a couple of days."

I didn't want to tell him that that was unhealthy but it slipped out. Why am I so god damn considerate?

"What? You need at least two meals a day to function properly. Smoking isn't going to give you the nutrients you need."

He laughed softly and took out his phone. I couldn't see what he was doing from where I sat but his expression was sour.

"So you play rugby?"

That was a completely random topic change.

"Er… Yeah. How did you know that one?"

"Tan lines on your arms. You're wearing a jumper so it's hard to tell but I took a guess. You seemed like a rugby player." He shrugged as if his ability to do this was nothing unordinary.

"Amazing."

He seemed taken aback by my comment. Like he wasn't used to praise.

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss. Off." His eyes glinted and he glared at his phone screen tapping violently at it. I could only stand there awkwardly looking at him. His clothes were nice, expensive no doubt. He wasn't bad looking either. His hair in black messy curls suited his face and cheekbones. His lips were a burgundy red adding contrast to his pale face. He looked like a sort of prince to be honest.

I stood up from the ground brushing bits of gravel from my pants. The bell was going to ring any moment and I needed to go to my locker before the next class of the day.

"My name's John Watson."

He rolled his eyes, those damn near crystal blue eyes and swept his phone in his pocket.

"I know your name, John."

"No, no I know. I just thought it proper to introduce myself."

I held out my hand prompting for him to shake it. He looked at it, then my tan line that showed with my slightly upturned sleeve, then searched for my eyes. Our gaze locked as he shook my hand sternly.

"Sherlock Holmes."

He winked and we went our separate ways.


End file.
